


nothing / everything.

by orphan_account



Series: Fallen Hazbins [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor's Shadow is sick of babysitting Alastor, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Gore, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Cannibalism, Gen, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Some Humor, Suicidal Thoughts, Twins, alastor tries to keep up a facade he knows isnt working, but not...exactly, idk what else to tag for, tagging is hard, they're also twin brothers, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The house reeks of blood.That’s the first thing Aether notices upon stepping into their quiet, tiny home, nudging the door shut with a tap of his heel and dropping his schoolbag beside the front door. His face reflexively scrunches into a grimace as the smell assaults him, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth and nose to shield himself from it. Disgusting; both the smell and the buzz it gives him, head feeling as though it’s been shot into the clouds. Unbelievably and utterly repulsive. Why on earth does this have to be the first thing that greets him upon returning home?Of course, it probably wasn’t that bad; in fact, he’s certain that nobody else would have caught the scent, let alone be able to pinprick its origins in the upstairs bathroom. They certainly wouldn’t be able to tell who’s it was just with a simple whiff of the air.Still doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.Damn, being a human god sucks.But—even though he is the only one aware of it—he is not the only god in this house, and he knows that Alastor can handle whatever mess he’s made for himself; amnesia be damned.
Relationships: Alastor & Alastor's Shadow (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Fallen Hazbins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574125
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	nothing / everything.

_The house reeks of blood. _

That’s the first thing Aether notices upon stepping into their quiet, tiny home, nudging the door shut with a tap of his heel and dropping his schoolbag beside the front door. His face reflexively scrunches into a grimace as the smell assaults him, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth and nose to shield himself from it. Disgusting; both the smell and the buzz it gives him, head feeling as though it’s been shot into the clouds. Unbelievably and utterly repulsive. Why on earth does this have to be the first thing that greets him upon returning home?

Of course, it probably wasn’t _that_ bad; in fact, he’s certain that nobody else would have caught the scent, let alone be able to pinprick its origins in the upstairs bathroom. They certainly wouldn’t be able to tell who’s it was just with a simple whiff of the air.

Still doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.

Damn, being a human god sucks.

But—even though he is the only one aware of it—he is not the only god in this house, and he knows that Alastor can handle whatever mess he’s made for himself; amnesia be damned.

So, shaking his head to clear it, Aether slinks into the kitchen, shadows following close behind as he goes about his routine, albeit with a spring to his step and a slight tremor in his hands.

Wash his hands (dig at the crawling sensations that scratch underneath his skin).

Turn on the radio (drown out the whispers and shouts rolling around inside his head, playing their sick, sweet melodies again and again for only him to hear, crying out for release from his flesh-prison so they can tear havoc on a world both unloving and unforgiving).

Prepare dinner (and hope to the gods that regular meat will stave off his cravings for divine flesh for another day, though he doubts it).

Reorganize the dishes (hide any sharp objects; which, upon inspection, he realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach that one of the knives are missing).

Aether pauses, looking at the empty space in the silverware drawer and frowning, eyes flicking up to glance over the railing to the upstairs bathroom. The color drains from his face when he realizes how much stronger the iron in the air has gotten.

His vision swarms with shadows as his ears ring with chatter.

_Got in another fight, no doubt. Never did have a good handle on his temper. _

_Might have lost control again. He has a habit of that, doesn’t he? You always were his leash, keeping everything at bay. You should have expected him to snap when you left him alone._

_You’ve made him weak. A loose cannon. A threat to everyone, including himself. _

_It would be better if you had never involved yourself in this life at all. _

_Perhaps he murdered someone this time? Not a kill in this life yet, but that won’t last for long. Never does. _

_You should have been here. You could have stopped this._

_Could have been in self-defense. What if someone attacked him? _

_This is all your fault. _

_What if he’s dying? _

_Better dead and gone than with you. _

_What if he dies, what if he dies, you can’t let him die, can you, you can’t—_

Shut. Up.

He moves before he can think things through, arms folded behind his back as he makes his way up the stairs, two at a time, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end. Shadowy beasts cling to his arms and legs, but he pays them no mind, the redhead coming to a stop in front of the bathroom and hesitating, a hand hovering over the door handle.

He knocks once, twice. Three times.

No response. Though, his sensitive ears pick up on a quiet humming coming from the other side, shoulders visibly relaxing as the melody washes over him.

“…_ouble, trouble, I’ve had it all my days…trouble’s going to follow me to my grave_…”

Not the usual cheery, pick-me-up tunes Alastor sings, but Aether will take his brother singing the blues and _alive_ over the alternative.

Aether knocks one last time, listening closely, only to once again be ignored. With a sigh, Aether grabs the knob and twists it, forcing his lips into a small smile (_don’t want to scare him_, he tells himself) as he pushes it open.

He stops when he sees the scene in front of him.

The blood isn’t the part that bothers him; no, he’s seen plenty over the centuries to numb him to the stuff, what with war, murder, experimentation, childbirth, surgery and whatever else to make this small pool of blood on the tiled floor seem pathetic in comparison. The smell threatens to gag him, true, and he does cover his face to keep from vomiting, but really, it’s not _that_ bad.

No, what bothers him is the image of his brother slumped against the bathroom wall, a knife held loosely in his left hand as he twirls it around and around in his fingers, head bowed and eyes glazed over as he hums that same old tune through blood-smeared lips and a permanent smile. Aether thinks “permanent,” not because Alastor is currently smiling—because he’s not, he’s frowning, which Aether isn’t sure how to feel about—but because the bastard had _carved through his cheeks_ to create an artificial one, blood dribbling down his chin and jaw while flaps of skin move with the other’s breathing.

Aether thinks that perhaps that’s the worst of it until his eyes fall on the other twin’s arms, and oh, did it get worse. Alastor’s sleeves are rolled up above his elbows, shirt soaked in a way Aether doubts can be saved, arms exposed for the world to see his work. His arms are skinned, deep lacerations scattered across the muscle to the point where Aether can see glimpses of bone, chunks of meat missing from where Alastor had bit and chewed through the flesh. His right arm is worse off than his left, lying motionless on Alastor’s lap, fingers twitching and nothing more.

The shadows clinging to him retreat as Aether’s smile twitches, eyes wide and face the color of ash.

What. The _fuck_.

Alastor’s singing stops, blinking blurrily while a groan slips passed his lips, leaning his head against the wall. He freezes when he notices Aether, a reflexive smile falling into place. Judging by the uncomfortable look in his eye, even he knows it’s not convincing. “Ah,” he murmurs, his voice coming out higher than usual, “you’re home.”

Aether has to physically restrain himself from running over and strangling him. Instead, he rushes forward, snatching the knife and ripping it from Alastor’s grasp, throwing it into the sink and clumsily grabbing a towel.

“Aether, you don’t have t—”

The other teenager is silenced by running water, Aether holding the rag underneath the tap before switching it off, kneeling next to the other boy and pressing the towel against his ruined arms.

Alastor winces but doesn’t fight back, fixing his gaze to the ceiling when Aether digs underneath the sink for the first-aid kit.

They sit in silence, a distant tune playing on the radio downstairs as Aether works, both dreading the inevitable storm that would hit the moment Aether finished patching his brother up and cleaning up the mess.

It came an hour later.

“It was nothing but a lapse of judgment, brother. There is no reason to be this upset about it,” Alastor sighs as he watches the other boy pace around the kitchen, the other pulling at his hair while he sets aside the meat to thaw. “You act as though I attempted suicide, and you and I both know that wasn’t the intention.”

Aether whips around and snarls, slamming his hand on the counter.

“Oh, come now, you know me better than that. If I were to do something like that, you wouldn’t have had time to put me back together.” Alastor shrugs, smile tugging at his lips—or as much as one could, considering the fresh stitches on his cheeks (that he seemed to be enjoying a bit too much for Aether’s liking). “After all, if I’m going to erase myself, I certainly wouldn’t leave room for error, now, would I?”

Aether does nothing but grumble, slamming a bag of vegetables onto the counter in front of him and tearing it open with his teeth. He waves a hand frantically in the air, making sounds but unable to form words, dark wisps manifesting around him and flickering in and out, in and out.

Alastor watches with a raised eyebrow, scoffing. “I suppose you don’t have to believe me,” he decides, crossing his arms across his chest, immediately regretting it when a sharp ache cuts through his wounds. He winces but refuses to unfold his arms, gaze fixated on the back of his brother’s head as he says, “I suppose I wouldn’t believe you if our situation was reversed.”

Aether shoots him a weak glare over his shoulder.

“It’s the truth. You’re terribly emotional, Aether—someone so much as looks at you wrong and you crumble.”

The glare worsens.

“Relax, would you? I’m just teasing.” Alastor hums, his eyes slipping closed. “…Though, I suppose I should thank you. Lord knows I wouldn’t have been able to clean up nearly as well without your help. Hell, I might have died—_ha_! Now that would’ve been something, wouldn’t it? Wonder how the world would fare without me.” He breaks off into a snicker, shaking his head. “Makes me wonder where I would go after all this. All the possibilities—say, do you think they have a special place for people like me? Not Hell, I don’t think I’ve done any major sins to end up there, at least not yet. Not Heaven, either; not well-behaved enough for that. Purgatory, maybe, though that sounds like such a bore…” 

Aether squeezes his eyes shut and decides to ignore how casually the other talks about all this, how ironic it is that the other has no idea of his true place in the world, continuing his preparations for dinner with an incessant ringing in his ears. The radio crackles static beside him, playing a song he’s never heard before and he doubts Alastor would bother with in his own time.

“_It’s only when I’m lonely, sometimes I just want to cave and I don’t want to fight; I try and I try and I try and I try_—”

Alastor’s grip tightens on his sleeve and he grimaces, glaring at the table. “…If I say I won’t do it again, will you calm down—”

CRACK.

Alastor leans back in his chair with wide eyes and a frozen smile when Aether throws a plate at him, glass flying as it shatters against the wall.

Neither of them moves, Alastor’s surprise miniscule compared to Aether’s furious expression.

Blinking, Alastor sighs, relaxing into his chair and leaning forward, resting his hands in his lap. His smile shrinks, confused and uncertain, looking between his brother and his covered arms. “…Fine. Fine, you’re right—I’m acting inappropriate. There, happy?”

Aether throws his arms up in the air and turns away from him again, shaking his head.

Alastor tries again, “I’m acting inappropriate _and_ I won’t do it again?”

The other boy shakes his head again.

“I’m acting inappropriate, I won’t do it again, and…I’m sorry?” Alastor rolls his eyes at the last addition, snorting and shaking his head.

Aether must’ve heard it, because he turns around and gives him a deadpan look, making a gesture in his direction.

“Alright, alright. I get it—don’t apologize if I don’t mean it. Point taken.” Another roll of his eyes. Alastor pauses when Aether takes a seat in front of him, watching as the other teenager all but collapses into his chair, his face in his hands and hair messy and wild, sticking out in every direction. He tenses when he sees specs of his own blood on the other’s clothes, his eyelid twitching at the sight. A twinge of guilt twists in his stomach, but he shoves it down, biting his tongue and tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “…I meant it when I said I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Aether.”

Aether just nods.

“I—” Alastor falters, part of his mind telling him to stop now, to leave it be, to move on and forget about it, but he pushes on and finds himself unable to shut up, “—I just got caught up in my own head. I couldn’t stop thinking about how confusing everything is. I mean, people just make no sense to me—never have, and I doubt they ever will. They have all these rules and expectations, most of which they can’t even follow themselves, and they act and behave in ways that are just so…_contradictory_. Always with this excuse of ‘emotions.’” He wrinkles his nose. “…and I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why I’m supposed to follow these rules when nobody can agree on what is and isn’t the truth. I don’t understand why I should care when people have made it clear that their kindness and their love are all conditional. It’s—it’s _exhausting_. This whole charade—does it serve a purpose? If so, what is it? Why even bother pretending when everything is so meaningless?”

Aether raises his head to look up at him, blinking. Waiting to see where this is going.

Alastor continues, not noticing the other’s eyes on him, “If that’s really how emotions are, I’m glad I don’t have them. I don’t _want_ them—ever. No matter how much people want to push the idea on me that I should get ‘better’—which we both know is only for their own selfish wants, not because they want what’s ‘good’ for me—I don’t see how something like that could be good for anyone. I mean, look at you! You feel everything—too much, I’d argue—and you about lose your mind just because I had a small slip-up.”

_Would hardly call that a small slip-up, _Aether looks at the other from between his fingers, raising an eyebrow. He waits, allowing Alastor to talk, frown deepening behind his hands the longer the other rants.

“I just think it’s a waste of time and energy. It’s more productive to feel nothing at all, if you ask me.” Alastor runs his good hand through his hair, looking down at the limp arm in his lap and letting out a dry laugh. “’Course, that line of thinking can be dangerous. Starts out small, sure, but it always ends in me wondering what I’m missing. _Something’s_ missing, I know that; but _what_ it is, I can’t seem to figure it out. Must’ve forgotten it along the way, or maybe I just wasn’t born with it—who knows! But there’s _something_ missing, and people just _love_ to remind me that it’s gone, and it—well, I’d say it bothers me, but I think it’d be more honest to say it pisses me off.” Alastor’s smile falters. “…And once I got started, it all spun out of control. I lost control; which I’m not supposed to, I’m _supposed_ to stay in control, always, at _all times_—” Alastor catches himself and bites his lip, breathing through his nose. “…and the next thing I know, I’m eating myself and thinking of the perfect way to keep up appearances.”

He points at his fake smile, though his real one fades, eyes reflecting the most honest feeling Aether’s ever seen on the other’s face.

Pain.

Aether sits up and leans forward, hands pressed against the table. He hesitates, watching as the other deflates, watches as Alastor sighs and runs his hand down his face, unable to form words. Unable to make sense of his jumbled thoughts.

Alastor glances in his direction and then snorts, his features smoothing out and his smile falling back into place, the glimpse into his real state of mind gone as quickly as it’d came. “…Not that it matters. It’s done now, we’ve dealt with it—so that’s that, isn’t it? So now that it’s over with, can we please, please, please, please, _please_ move on from it and do something more entertaining?” he waves a hand in the air, adds, “I’ll even beg if you want. Is that what you want me to do, Aether? Do you want to see your twin brother get on his knees and beg?”

Aether looks at him. Really, truly looks at this human boy; this once-upon-a-time powerful god. Someone who used to start plagues and trick leaders into wars just for the laughs, someone who would prank and jest other gods and narrowly dodge certain death with a wink and a winning smile, someone who’s destroyed world after world, time and time again, just to show he could. He stares, aching, torn between walking away and spilling his guts out just so that Alastor could see the universe the way he does.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands, jumps over the table and wraps his arms around the other’s neck, hiding his face in the other’s hair.

Alastor tenses, startled, arms held out wide in shock. He blinks, eyebrows furrowed, mouth twitching as he looks at the trembling form of his brother curled up against him, before he sighs, returning the hug with a chuckle.

“Told you, you’re emotional,” he teases, giggling when the other boy slaps his shoulder blade.

It’s not long at all before they grow uncomfortable and pull apart, a wide (and painful) smile on Alastor’s face and an amused, exhausted one pulling at the corner of Aether’s lips.

Alastor clears his throat and gestures to the kitchen counter, arms behind his back and rocking on his heels as he says, “So…do you want help with dinner? Mother’s been giving me lessons.”

Aether raises an eyebrow.

“No, I will not almost burn down the house like I did last time. Have some faith in me, Aether—your distrust in me is worrisome.”

A scoff.

“Whether it be for good reason or not means nothing! Now, move—I’m helping. I have made the decision for you considering you want to be rude.”

Aether chuckles and steps out of the way, allowing Alastor to take over the kitchen with the knowledge that he won’t be in control for the next few hours, perhaps even the rest of the day. But that’s fine, he decides as he notices shadows dance in the corners of his vision and hears faint whispers in his ears, growing quieter the longer he stands in Alastor’s presence. Being the fallen god’s shadow, he much prefers to be the one following.

After all, he comes from nothing—and Alastor is everything, at least to him. And whether Alastor likes it or not, Aether will remain beside him, no matter the outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Today on: I make an AU that nobody asked for!
> 
> Introducing Fallen Hazbins--a fallen gods/goddesses AU where the cast were all part of the divinity, were forgotten about, and then were reincarnated as humans with no memory of their past lives (with some exceptions) upon falling into the mortal realm!
> 
> There's going to be a full fic for this AU (24 chapters, I already have it planned out, hehe) but I couldn't resist writing about Alastor and his shadow (or Aether, as I've named him) interacting because I am weak for twins in fiction okay I just love writing the twin dynamic. 
> 
> You know what else I like writing about? Angst! Emotional pain! Misery! It's like, the main reason I write stories, lmao.
> 
> I don't know what exactly to explain here, especially because I'm posting this first before the actual big fic for the AU, but basically:
> 
> Alastor was the god of chaos/mischief before he fell, and when he did fall, because his shadow had a shit-ton of personality, it split off from him in the form of Aether! Aether, not being a full god and also not being a full human, remembers Alastor being a god, but because he can't talk he can't exactly;;; tell Alastor what he knows, and he's also afraid of what will happen if he tells Al the truth. They share the power of Alastor's divinity between themselves, though because Alastor doesn't remember, he can't really harness it, leaving him with that "missing" feeling he describes in this fic. 
> 
> He also still struggles with urges to eat and maim people, though he's much better about handling them in his current form (with some exceptions obviously, and it's uncertain if he'll be able to resist them forever). 
> 
> I will probably write more oneshots in this 'verse besides just the big fic, so I will also explore the other characters as well, though hopefully they won't be as graphic or as long ;u; I didn't mean to get this detailed with this little oneshot, I just wanted Alastor to suffer, lol--
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, feel free to ask!! 
> 
> -ProPulse


End file.
